


Sleep in the Night

by Elle82



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is an enabler, Hannigram (eventually), Manipulation, Nightmares, Sleep, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle82/pseuds/Elle82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal notices Will’s lack of sleep and suggests an unusual solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> I think this idea came from a prompt/and or posting the picture of the device mentioned on tumblr. Link is in the body of the story at the first mention. Hopefully will write more if this is well received. 
> 
> The timeline for this is not clear - somewhere in Season 2 perhaps?
> 
> Prompts always welcome, comment below or come say hey on tumblr: puppyxtraining :)

Will rubbed his eyes and stifled another yawn, glancing only briefly at the man sitting opposite. They were partway through their regular appointment, and Will was finding it hard to concentrate.

“How have you been sleeping, Will?” Hannibal asked.

Will gave one of those small half-smile, half-grimaces he was so good at giving. 

“Sorry.”

“Quite alright, Will. Can I offer you a cup of tea or coffee?” Will shook his head.

“No, no I’m okay. Just, well…the usual.” Hannibal nodded, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

“The dreams? Nightmares? Do you wake up in a panic?”

Will took a deep breath.

“I’m…I’m afraid to sleep sometimes. I know some people find solace in it, they look forward to the rest, to time away from conscious thought.”

“Not you though.”

“No, not me.”

Hannibal paused, waiting for Will to go on.

“Sometimes I can remember the dreams as soon as I wake up. They’re vivid, colourful. The shades of blood red are almost too real. Then other times, I won’t remember until later in the day, when I’m reminded suddenly of what I dreamt.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Do you wake up mid-dream, Will? Do you find yourself gasping for air, perspiring heavily?”

“Yes.“

“How often?”

Will shrugged.

“Every other night, if not every night.”

“And you find it hard to return to sleep?”

“Yes. Well, lately, I…I get so anxious about dreaming that I find it hard to get back to sleep. Or get to sleep in the first place.”

Hannibal regarded Will for a moment. His hair was messy, but that wasn’t unusual. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his pallor was unmistakably unhealthy.

“Have you tried any sleeping aids?”

“You mean sleeping pills? No. Sometimes I’ll have a finger or two of whisky before bed, but nothing excessive.”

“The alcohol will make you feel drowsy, Will, but won’t give your body rest. It will dehydrate you, wake you up during the night perhaps to relieve yourself. I don’t recommend it.”

“Well what do you recommend then, Dr Lecter?”

Hannibal’s lips quirked into a small smile as he thought about the gift he would give dear Will to help him sleep.

“I have an idea. But it will need to wait for our next meeting. I’m hoping you will be able to go a few more nights of restless slumber?”

“Well, I’ve managed so far, haven’t I?”

…

At their next meeting, Will looked even more tired than before. The circles had darkened, his face looked drawn and hollow.

“Will, I am concerned about your lack of sleep. But before I refer you to a sleep specialist, I’d like you to try something.”

Will shrugged. He knew therapy didn’t work on him. Maybe Hannibal was going to suggest some herbal tea blend, or meditating.

Hannibal walked over to his desk and retrieved a paper gift bag, handing it to Will.

“What is it?”

“Something to help, I hope.”

Will opened the bag and [pulled out a box](https://otakumode.com/shop/535a315acae458ac1800004d/TOM-Exclusive-Nemuriale-Sleep-Aid-Puppy-Miniature-Stafford), with Japanese characters on the outside, and what looked like a small brown stuffed dog on the inside.

Will gave a small, self-conscious laugh.

“You’re giving me a stuffed toy, Dr Lecter?”

“It’s not a stuffed toy. Well, not exactly. I was sharing your sleep troubles with a friend who recommended this. It worked wonders for her son.”

“You discuss me with your friends?”

“You’re not my patient, Will. It was merely an exchange of ideas with the goal of helping you sleep better during the night.”

Will tried not to seem off-put by the idea of Hannibal talking about him to one of his friends.

Will turned the box over in his hands, looking for some English translation or explanation to this toy.

“And how old is your friends’ son?”

“He has just turned five.”

Will laughed again.

“I’m not a child. I don’t need a stuffed toy to help me sleep.”

“It’s not just a stuffed toy. It has a device you place inside the dog that mimics the human heartbeat. It can be a comfort and grounding device for adults and children alike.”

Will sighed. He was so tired, but didn’t want to admit help in this embarrassing form from Hannibal.

“You don’t have to use the plush dog, Will. It’s merely a covering for the device. But when you wake up, your mind racing and your heart hammering in your chest, you can use this. It will help to calm you down, get your breathing under control and give you something else to focus on. It’s all set up and ready to go. You just need to turn on the switch on the underside.”

“You sound like you’ve given this a try.”

“Not quite. I do not have trouble sleeping. However, I did do some reading up on this device, and the science of why the heartbeat can ground and soothe. When we are young, the feeling of being held to our mother or father’s chest to feel their heartbeat can calm instantly.”

“I’m not going to get into my mother or father and their involvement in my early, formative years. I won’t rise to the bait.”

“No bait, Will. Just try it. I have taken the liberty of setting it up for you. There are batteries inside. All you need to do is turn it on when you need it.”

Will turned the box over in his hands again.

“Okay.”

…

The box remained unopened on the table near where Will kept his fly-tying gear.  He pushed the gift to the back of his mind as he undressed, brushed his teeth and let the dogs out before he went to bed.

Winston, the first to come back after being outside, went over to the table and sniffed the air beneath the box.

“I know. Ridiculous, right?”

Winston looked from the box, to Will, and back to the box. Will snorted.

“Not you too, Winston.”

When the last dog came inside, Will shut the door, turned the lights off and crawled under the covers. He listened to the dogs settle as he tried to relax himself enough to fall asleep.

…

Abigail. She was the one constant in his dreams. Yes, he dreamt often. But they all had different characters, different faces. But not lately.

They were at the river, fishing. Will was teaching her how to cast again and she was smiling sweetly, the afternoon sun catching her hair, making her glow.

A cool breeze swept through and the sky darkened. Will looked behind him and could suddenly see a wave coming down the river, perhaps three storeys high.

“Abigail, we need to leave.”

She shrugged and kept casting into the river.

“Abigail, c’mon, we need to run.”

Will grabbed her by the elbow, but she was stuck. She wouldn’t leave. Will was panicking, but Abigail looked calm.

“Run, Will. Don’t worry about me.”

Will shook his head. The wave was so close; he could feel the spray on his face. 

“N…no. No no no, Abigail, please, come with me.”

He was begging her. He was crying. Abigail placed her hand to Will’s cheek.

“I named my fly ‘Will’. Now fly, Will.”

And with that, the wave toppled down and Will jumped onto the riverbank.

And he woke.

…

Will’s eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright in bed, panting, sweating and shivering. The dogs woke too, Winston getting up to stand by the side of the bed.

His heart was racing, tears and sweat stinging his eyes. He let out a few sobs, mixed with gulping breaths.

“My name is Will Graham. It’s….3:35am…I’m in Wolf Trap, Virginia.”

Will closed his eyes. He could see Abigail, standing in the river, a sad little smile on her face.

When Will’s eyes opened again, they were focused on the box on his desk. Struggling to keep his breathing under control, Will threw off the covers and stumbled over to the desk, tearing the box open in the moonlight.  

Will tried not to think about the fact that it was a stuffed toy and felt around on the underside of it to find a switch. When he flicked it on, it made a dull sound, rhythmic and slightly muted.

He took it back to the bed and left it there, while he went and grabbed another shirt from the chest of drawers, taking his sodden one off and putting the dry one on.

Will crawled back into bed, placing the stuffed dog near his head. His breathing was still rapid, so he placed one hand on the thing and closed his eyes again.

“Calm, calm, calm.” Will whispered to himself.

He forced himself to focus on the sound pattern coming from the toy, concentrated on the soft fabric beneath his fingers.

“It was just a dream. It was just a dream.”

Slowly, his heart stopped hammering in his chest. His breathing evened out and he fell asleep once again.

…

When Will woke, it was bright outside. The dogs were beginning to stir and Will thought for one split second that everything had been a dream, a figment of his imagination.

Then he looked down and saw that clutched tight to his chest was the stuffed toy.

Will grimaced, embarrassed, even though there was no one to be embarrassed in front of. He placed it on the pillow next to him, not sure of what to make of the previous night. He tried to forget about it as he got up, let the dogs out and got on with his day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from William Blake.


End file.
